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THE STORY 



OP T H K 



NINETY-FIEST. 



READ AT A RK-UNION OF THE NINETY-FIRST RBGIMKNT 

OHIO VOLUNTEER INFANTRY, HELD AT PORTSMOUTH, 

OHIO, APRIL 8, 1868, IN RESPONSE TO THE 

TOAST, "our BOND OP UNION." 



BY E. E. EWING. 



PO^T^MOUTH, OHIO: 

PRINTED BY THP, REPUBLICAN PRINTING COMPANY. 

1868. 



THE STORY 

OF TEE 

NINETY-EIEST. 



READ AT A KE-UNION OP THE NINETY-FIRST EEGIMSNT 

OHIO VOLUNTEER INFANTRY, HELD AT PORTSMOUTH, 

OHIO, APRIL 8, 1868, IN RESPONSE TO THE 

TOAST, ^'OUR BOND OP UNION." 



BY E. E. EWING. 



X4^ 



PORTSMOUTH, OHIO: 

PRINTED BY THE REPUBLICAN PRINTING COMPANY. 

1868; 



A thousand glorious actions, that might claim 
Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, 
Confused in crowds of glorious actions lie, 
And troops of heroes uudistinguished die. " 

Addtson. 






Th^ $tory at iU nm^ixyTmU 



Should any ask at whose "behest 
Our willing feet have hither pressed ; 
Why we have met together here ; 
What mystic tie that we revere ; 
Already in our hearts is told 
The same one reason, never old ; 
Our fellowship through those dark years 
Of grief and w^rong, and blood and tears, 
And friendship strong and ever true 
We here have hasten'd to renew. 

When treason hovered o'er the land. 
And held almost supreme command, 
And loyal ranks w^ere driven back, 
Leaving their blood in every track ; 
When plighted faith was oft betrayed, 
That should the gory tide have stayed; 
When traitors lined yon river's shore 
And threaten'd e'en your very door, 
When haughty monarchs smileel their 

scorn 
At Freedom's boasted ensign torn 
And rift in shreds — its motto — "One 
In many" — "see," the}^ boast — "undone." 



THE STORY OF 



'Twas then we heard above the roar, 
That call, ^^ jSix hundred thoiisand more!'' 
'T\Yas Lincoln spoke, the nation's head, 
On lightning through the land it sped ; 
Its pulse had scarcely ceased to beat 
That did the mandate stern repeat. 
The cadence scarce had time to fall, — 
Six hundred thousand heard the call! — 
And hearing, "here am I," each said, 
And on his country's altar laid 
His strength, his hope, his life, his all, 
What e'er the off'ring might befall. 
What loves attendant in each breast, 
What idol each had cherished best 
Was gone, and there ^Yas left to burn 
The fire of patriot zeal alone. 

Who now shall be the first to reach 
The falt'ring ranks, and fill the breach? 
We little knew of warlike art; 
\{q only knew that mind and heart 
And strength and will impelled us on 
To deeds of valor yet undone. 
N"o boastful spirit dared find rest, 
Or glory vain within our breasts ; 
For well we knew our foemanvS-Eteel, 
If ours were worthy, it were well ! 

I need not lead your mem'ry baciv, 
Or mention here your first' a-ttafeir: ; 
Ilard-tack it was, vou can't foriret, 



THE N I N E T Y - F I R S T . 



I 



That first our Wry bay'nets met 
And IcU beneath them. Then by "flank" 
We captured each a soft pine plank. 
Our next was made on beans and pork; 
A good digestion did the work, . 
Induced, 'tis true, by daily drill — 
Such drill a bore we argued still. 

But passing now those early scenes 
Of soldier life, our march begins ; 
Here "blood will tell," and here's the 

test. 
And soon we'll see who bears it best. 
For once when twenty miles or so 
We'd marched, we came to Buffalo, 
And drove the rebel pickets in 
With shot and shout and clang and din ! 
We looked for bloody work before us, 
And the deadly martial chorus 
Of musketry and sabre clash — 
Of cannon's roar and blinding fliasb. 
That there were heroes made that day, 
It scarce becomes the muse to say. 
Some knew quite well they had no fear, 
As all alone they lingered in the rear. 
How many heroes fight unseen, 

And waste their courage on the air; 
Proclaim with proud and boastful 
mien, 

The surplus courage they could 
spare, 



THE STORY OF 



Aud put to shajne the Spartan I'.ace, 
If thej the enemy might face. 
It Loots not now that I shoukl tell 
The sequel, for you know it well. • 
It ended not as we had dreamed it, 
And yet a very triumph seeraed.it, 
A meager feast, yet fed we on it, 
A battle fought and we had won it. 

A year of quiet yet unrest, 

By Gauley's stream or Sewell's- crest 

In raj)t expectancy was spent, 

Scarce knowing what by war Avas meant. 

Eut Death, with breathings cold and 

damp, 
Had frequent access to our camp. 
And lured two o>enial hearts awav 



^y 



To mingle in his dread array. 
First Blessing passed to his domain, 
Then Niday joined the sombre train; 
Death nobler spirits never led 
In all the armies of the dead. 

On every wind, on every blast, 
On every zephyr floating past. 
On every fragrant matin breath, 
Came whisperings of blight and death ; 
While war's fierce notes but louder grew, 
They bade Truth's champions be tiuie, 
To shrink not from the battle's chance, 
But firm with confidence advance. 



THE NINETY -FIRST. 



Though life were sweet and friends were 

dear, 
All, all must be forgotten here. 

Cloyd Mountain's fastnesses defied, 
Where Jenkins boasted in his pride, 
While he arrayed his mighty host. 
That should the battle there be lost, 
He too should render up the ghost ! 
Ah, ne'er was more prophetic boast ! 
For ere that day's last beams were shed, 
That field was strewn with rebel dead — 
The rebel cliief himself went down, 
And mangled lay with fatal wound, 
And, as the wind drives chaff away, 
His marshalled host fled in dismay. 

We well may say that until then, 
We little knew our bravest men ; 
For not till 'mid the battle's roar, 
From all that had been known before. 
Could be discerned the brave and true. 
Who laggards were, yet these were few. 
And while the bugle's martial breath. 
Still called the brave to deeds of death, 
And while the musket's deadly crash 
Was heightened by the cannon's flash, 
We hurled us on the foeman's line 
Where bristling sabres most did shine ; 
'Twas then that dying groans replied 
To sabre stroke and heroes died ; 



THE STORY OF 



Yet like an ocean's -syave we prepscd 
The foe all vanquished and distressed. 
Then brave men wept, for there has 

been 
Than victory one sadder scene. 
Defeat, the bitterest of all. 
Triumph leaves much of real g'all, 
For Vvdio may think on comrades gone 
Beyond that stream whence none return, 
And not feel swelling in his breast, 
Sad throes that will not be repressed? 
But Avhen Defeat's deep mists are spread 
Between the living and the dead, 
What weapon shall we set apart, 
That deeper wounds the soldier's heart? 

There fell Clark, the brave and true, 
The wise in counsel, strong to do. 
Whose spirit would not leave its clay, 
Until the death-strife passed away. 
When gazing on the setting sun. 
And feeling that his race was run, 
His life-blood moistening the sod, 
His soul just going back to God, 
His lips still uttering the-prayer, 
That o'er his loved ones still that care 
Would be, that notes the sparrow's fall. 
And watches lovingly o'er a^l, 
He-asked, "how has the battle gone?" 
"The day is ours," 'twas said by one: 
Then o'er his face there came a smile 



THE NINETY -FIRST 



That faintly lingered there jrvvhiJe; 
"Thank God," he .said, "now let me die." 
His light went out, but shines on high ! 
And o'er that sun-browned soldier face 
An angel presence whispered — Peace. 
Death loves a shining mark, 'tis said, 
To brighter, ne'er his arrow sped. 

Now, when another day had passed, 
The end we sought was gained at last. 
The bridge that long had been the boast 
Of Southern prowess now w^as lost ; 
And while the missiles thick and fast 
Played on our ranks or whistled past, 
'Twas Crossland's match that lit the 

flame 
That burned the rebel life in twain. 
Then did the smoky column rise 
Oar sign of triumph to the skies; 
Then did the flames to heaven aspire 
And seemed the foeman's funeral P3're, 
While on the river's placid stream 
Float burning brands and w^rcathing 

steam. 
The shouts that seemed to rend the sky, 
The rallying song, "The Battle Cry," 
We could not if w^e would forget, 
We often seem to hear them yet; 
And when the snows of age have spread 
Their whitening folds upon our heads 
In mind we'll wander to that scene 



10 THE STORY OP 

And seem to live it o'er again. 

O'er mouDtain heightSj through scenes 

of blood 
We pushed our way to Greenbrier's flood, 
While murderous bands on every side 
But sought to crimson more the tide 
Of cruel war, while greed and gold 
Were all they sought; for these they sold 
Their manhood, 'conscience and their 

life, 
Xor recked they how should end the 

strife. 
And JMudwall's legions hovered near 
On either flank, in front and rear, 
Yet never seemed in willing plight 
To stand a fair and open flght. 

At length we heard with what success 
Our Grant subdued the Wilderness; 
How great the carnage that it cost, 
How near it came of being lost. 
And how without regard to time 
He'd fight it out upon that line; 
While Sherman's "Onward to the Sea" 
Was heard, and smote the heart of Lee. 

Again the rallying note was heard, 
Our hearts with anxious bodings stirred; 
Again tlie AUegheney's crest 
Loomed up to view, v»'as scaled and past; 
With ever}^ inch contested still 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 11 



By rebel hosts with stubborn will, 
As Jackson river may attest, 
But Panther Gap will serve the best. 
At Staunton joined by Hunter's band, 
With Hunter's self to take command, 
Then southward still with cautious pace 
We left behind a crimson trace. 
With here and there a new made grave, 
Where fought and fell the good and brave. 
Ere long we paused at Lexington, 
Long since revered by Washington, 
Whose statue there still seemed to tell 
Of all this land he loved so well, 
While for its wrongs you seemed to trace 
The lines of sorrow on his face. 
How would it be had flesh and blood, 
^ot iron, clothed him where he stood, 
With heart still beating in his frame 
As warm as erst for Freedom's name ! 
How would his angrj^, righteous frown. 
Smite Treason's brazen minions down ! 
Here Stonewall sleeps, and o'er his grave 
The stars and bars did fitly wave; 
For wrong he fought j for wrong he 

died ; 
He gloried in his wrong. His pride 
Was in his treason and his shame 
That still shall gather round his name; 
And yet about his grave were strewn 
Flowers of richest, rarest bloom ; 
Nature's poets made to weave 



J 2 THE STORY OF 

A false inscription o'er his grave. 
Here Hunter's genius was cliBplajed. 
Defenseless homes in ashes laid, 
Or wives and helpless childhood turned 
Into the streets to see their houses 

burned, 
Might tell that tale of prowess well, 
But better still one word may tell 
Than any other ever heard ; — 
It is the sequel : Chambersburg ! 

By sturdy foes confronted j^et, 
Whom still we conquered as we met; 
Encouraged thus from day to day, 
We marched triumphant on our way 
By that abyss that God has spanned 
With rocky bent* with His own hand, 
Whose grandeur does as much outvie 
What man can do as earth and sky 
Are held apart by starry space 
Whose yonder bound no eye can trace; 
And by the James' clear rolling stream 
Where through the mountain's rocky 

seam. 
Its waters murmur in their track, 
While cavern echoes answer back ; 
And over rugged mountain steej)S, 
Between the lofty Ottar Peaks 
With Fancy Farms spread at their feet 

* The Natural Bridge. 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 13 

To make the lovely scene complete. 
Now, if to fight were to proclaim, 
How terrible were Hunter's name! 
He'd conquer all beneath the sun, 
However short the race he run. 
Yet should the foe be at a distance. 
The torch he'd bring to his assistance; 
Brave to pursue when fled the foe, 
But cautious lest too fast he'd go ; 
Whene'er too fresh might seem the track, 
His caution bade him hasten back. 
'Twas thus when Lynch uurg near was 

gained. 
By our own prowess, too, attained, 
When thrice the rebel legions fled 
And left their maimed, and mangled dead, 
Thrice reinforced, yet forced to yield, 
And leave us victors of the field. 
And, as 'twas muskets, dare and dasli, 
Unaided by the cannon's crash. 
That won for us this great success,. 
Their admiration to express,. 
For us as highly favored ones, 
They left us two large Rodman guns. 
Yet, Turley fell amid the strife,. 
And Stroup, the elder, gave his life; 
And others, would that I could name. 
Whose deeds deserve the boon of fame. 
While unsupported we fought there, 
Full twenty thousand in the rear 
Were guarding Hunter's grave dictation 



14 THE8T0RY0F 

Of still another proclamation ! 

That should the rebels still fall back, 

He'd follow lively in their track. 

But, hark! he hears the cannon's roar, 

Each moment louder than before. 

"In faith," he said, "they stand their 

ground. 
For this is no uncertain sound. 
So when the shades of night come on, 
I'll bid my army to return. 
And if I'm spared, some future day 
I'll just proclaim a victory; 
But if I'm taken, wo to me! 
They'll hang me to the nearest tree." 
With Hunter frantic with afiright, 
His cursings hideous day and night, 
No human tongue can fitly tell 
The torments of that earthly hell ! 
Had Satan's self appeared to reign, 
It were not more like his domain. 
Through day and night, through night 

and day, 
We westward kept our weary way. 
While every sound proclaimed retreat 
And clogged the movements of our feet. 
O, Hunger, Thirst, and Heat and Chill, 
We know thy every pang and ill, 
For w^e have suffered all that man, 
Of e'en thy sorest torments, can. 

In spite of Hunter's want of art, 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 15 

In spite of rebels' cunning part, 
That higher power brought us through, 
That ever aids the just and true, — 
That bids the rage of discord cease, 
And whispers to the tumult — Feace. 

But dow^n the Shenandoah's side. 
Came pouring fast the rebel tide — 
Again the proud invaders stand 
Upon the shores of Maryland. 
Then loyal hearts ^vere beating slow, 
And fondest hopes seemed buried low, 
While doubts and fears were ne'er more 

rife, 
The nation trembled for its life. 

Insatiate Demon, War, oh, w^hen 
Wilt thou release thy hold on men ? 
AVhen wilt thou stay this crimson flood, 
This stream of brothers' mingled blood? 
Dost not relent, when thou dost see, 
The hearts made desolate by thee? 
And yet dost see on every hand 
The sable w^oof that palls the land? 
" Still Duty, let thy bidding be 
The beacon star that guideth me !" 
Each in his inmost soul thus said 
And followed on as Duty led. 
We met the foe at Carter Farm, 
Where Crossley left his good right arm ; 
And Wilson, Bockhold, Willard, Steece, 



IG THE STORY OP 

Made out to catch a ball apiece. 
Do you remember how we stood 
Before the rebels in the wood? 
Our single line in open field 
Confronted columns well concealed, 
AVith rocks and trees theii- citadel, 
Their work of blood j^rojected well; 
Then how a living wall we stood, 
Each moment costing precious blood. 
With " Forward " for our battle cry, 
Resolved to conquer or to die, 
We rushed wpon their serried ranks, 
And doubled in their lengthened flanks 
With blows so savage, left and right, 
They gladly sought escape in flight. 
I think I used to hear them sa}', 
One southern man would drive away 
Five Yankees — mudsills, if you choose — 
And still it always seemed strange news. 
Pray, how stood our numbers then? 
Twelve hundred to five thousand men ! 
IS^ot always to the boastful, strong, 
'Tis true, does victory belong. 
To every brave that fell that day. 
Would I a fitting tribute -pay, 
Did words obey the heart's behest, 
To weave the measure it loves best. 

Though chafed in many a 'battle's heat, 
We never j^et had known defeat; 
Though pressed w^e never had to yield, 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 17 

But masters were of every field ; 
And so 'twere painful to reherse 
How came at length our first reverse. 
The Sabbath bells with joyful tone 
Called Christians to their earthly home. 
A brighter smile was never worn 
By this green earth than on that morn ; 
A¥hen curbless as the surging main 
Came Early's hosts along the plain, 
Nor with good grace we yet could yield 
The vantage of the mooted field. 

If with a word I do intrude, 
'Tis to express my gratidue. 
When left upon the battle field, 
With not one ray of hope revealed, 
Save that best hope that fondly clings 
To other than terrestrial things ; 
My life's blood ebbing sure and fast, 
Each moment seeming as the last ; 
When sleep came stealing o'er my frame. 
From which I might not wake again — 
And seemed before another sun 
Should gild th^ earth, Death's work 

were done ; 
'Twas then that'Heaven gave me friends; 
Blest source on which all good depends ! 
As if allied by flesh and blood, 
These pitying friends who 'round me 

stood — 
With ministering were not content, 



J8 THE STORY OF 

Till every hopeful means was spent — 
And from Death's downward, beaten 

track, 
They lured my fainting spirit hack. 
Yet dear to others as to me, 
Their deeds of love should ever he. 
They loved their country and their God, 
But never kissed rebellion's rod. 
To those brave hearts how much we owe 
Of gratitude we ne'er can know; 
They dared be loyal, though disgrace 
Should ever stare them in the face. 

Our laurels still were green and bright 
As though we had not lost the fight — 
Though torn in many rifts and shreds. 
That ensign still waved o'er our heads, 
And nerved each comrade to endure 
The sting that only time could cure. 
And then the brightness of the noon. 
Gave wa}^ to sombre, dusky gloom. 
The humid clouds came bounding forth 
To moist the thirsty, parching earth ; 
The w4nds indulged their wildest strain 
And brought their icy breath again ; 
And all night long in field and wood 
There groped pursuing and.jDursued. 
Our army all in fragments torn. 
But not destroyed, howe'er cast down ; 
And never did a band of men 
Seem longing more for light pgain, 



THE NINETY -FIRST. 19 

Which when it came brought little more 
Than Death and Terror, as before. 
All day, in hotly pressed retreat 
And weariness we dragged our feet; 
Hope lingered, and abiding trust. 
That God would bless a cause so just. 
Now on Potomac's northern side 
We lingered and the foe defied ; 
And noting each design or chance 
Prepared to make 07ie more advance. 
With rest, a new commander came, 
What foe but trembles at his name? 
Yes, Sheridan shall lead the van ; 
The rebel clan shall feel his ban, 
And after Early, late and early, 
Jubal Early, brusk and burly, 
With eagerness our lines shall press, 
To gain redress for our distress. 
Our burnished steel once more he'll feel, 
Nor shall we yield another field. 
This resolution never slept. 
I scarce need tell yon how 'twas kept. 
Let Halltown's pages first be read, 
They tell of forty maimed and dead I 
If further proof is needed still. 
Make answer, slain of Berry ville \ 

Again, along Opequan's stream. 
The same contending hosts are seen ; 
Each formed in battle's stern array, 
Awaits the signal for the 'fray ; 



20 THE S T R Y P 

While ever in the foremost van 
Is seen the form of Sheridan ; 
Anjd on his face that anxious smile 
That spoke an earnest will the while; 
While here and there in vale and grot, 
Was heard anon the sullen shot, 
The harbinger of that chill breath 
That follows in the wake of death. 
To calm Duval, the dauntless, brave, 
'Tis said but one command he gave — 

"To charge them to ," 'twas short 

and terse, 
To say how far sounds bad in verse. 
One bugle blast wakes into life 
The dormant energies of strife, 
While Mars triumphant drives his car — 
Let loose are all the dogs of war. 
The cannon's boom, the musket's roar 
Apart are now discerned no more — 
Death seldom dealt his blows so fast 
Or after life more eager grasped ; 
And long in doubt it seemed that daj 
Which side should hold the victor's sway. 
And Prestige plead with fond caress, 
For either foe, the prize, success ! 
A sudden change comes o'er the scene. 
Duval has crossed Opequan's stream, 
Made crimson by devoted bl<^od, 
That dared be spilled upon itsflood; 
'Twas thus with zest the charge 'began. 
That struck with fear the rebel clan ; 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 21 

That made them flee in fell distress, 
And dire defeat with shame confess. 
Ten miles of savage, running light, 
And hours as many brought to sight 
Winchester's hills, where iirst defeat 
Turned back our lines in sore retreat — 
When night spread out her shadows deej) 
To let the rage of armies sleep, 
While all along the loyal line 
The camp fires had begun to shine. 
Then did our chief this line indite — 
"Down the valley we push to-night!" 
A moment now to count the cost ; 
For all our gain, how much is lost? 
Hall, Findley, Atkinson, went down, 
And Stroup, w4th ghastly bleeding 

wound; 
One hundred more or bear a scar 
Or sleQ-p in peaceful rest from war. 

A score of miles ere broke the morn, 
Had Early dragged his legions lorn. 
On Fisher's Hill his hosts should rest 
And Safety guard him on its crest ; 
While thus his heart did proudly say: 
"I hold the straight and narrow way. 
My vengeance here will I dispense 
From this m}^ stronghold and defense." 
E'en while his heart with pride was 

fraught, 
A Crook-ed way his ruin wrought, 



THE STORY OF 



For Crook had scaled the mountain's side 
That human footsteps had defied, 
And broke the rebels' deep repose 
That dreamed not of impending blows. 
Tiie annals of the war can tell 
Scarce other feat performed so well. 

October's sun had turned to gold 
And crimson hue on every wold 
The leaves that erst their verdant shade 
Our roofless temples canopied, 
And Night her rayless, sable pall, 
With kind intent spread out o'er all ; 
While densest vajDors did enshroud 
The slumb'ring camps as with a cloud; — 
'Twas then with stealthy step the foe 
Disposed his lines to strike the blow 
That did but seal his lost estate, 
And made him writhe beneath his fate. 
And when the morning's lines of red 
Shot up the sky, with vengeance sped 
The messengers of Death — so fast 
Among our sleeping soldiers passed. 
That many passed from sleep to rest, 
With scarce an interval to test 
The dread realities of death. 
Or bid adieu the parting breath. 
Ko wonder then that sore dismay 
Among our ranks held potent sway; 
No wonder triumph crowned our foes. 
And quickened thrice their deadl}^ blows. 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 23 

Though twice a 'league away or more, 
Our chief has heard the battle's roar, 
And bounding on his fretful steed. 
He takes his way with headlong speed ; 
While on his brow fierce anger burned 
"The cowards knew my back was turned 
But even now they'll rue the day 
And hour of their temerity !" 
Along the lines there wildly ran 
Long, loud huzzas for Sheridan! 
True, he was more unto us then. 
Than were ten thousand armed men. 
His presence warmed each soldier's heart 
To dare and do a nobler part. 
He formed anew the broken lines. 
And spoke a cheering word betimes. 
" Make this resolve," he said, " as I, 
That we will have our camp or die. 
Where last you slept, to-night we'll sleep, 
Or Death his vigils o'er us keep." 
Now firmly stood the trusted, tried, 
And soon was staid the rebel tide, 
A}", put to such inglorious flight 
As seldom greets a mortal's sight; 
Then victory was doubly sweet 
From being born of such defeat. 
But all our conflicts now were passed; 
As fitting seemed, this was our last; 
Our living ranks had thinner grown. 
But glory marched where life had flown. 



24 THE STORY OF 

Sad duty yet remains :— ^to tell 
How Coles at post of honor fell ; 
So 3'oung, so full of lively hope 
When dashed was life's scarce tasted cup. 
The time allotted to him here, 
He gave not o'er to sloth or fear ; 
And from his heart full, free and warm 
Gushed this rosolve : well to perform 
Whatever trust, however fraught 
With pain. Nor selfish ease he sought. 
And how, without a comrade near 
To lend a loving, list'ning ear. 
To catch a sigh or whispered tone 
To bear it to his loved ones, home, 
Caldwell in many a battle tried, 
Still near the front in anguish died; 
His faithful servant lingered 3'^et, 
And closed his eyelids moist and wet 
With that bedewing humid breath 
That hovers o'er the conch of death, — 
Disj^osed his arms across his breast, 
And left him to his final rest. 

How frail and feeble is my verse. 
Your deeds triumphant to rehearse. 
In common with a million more 
You share the honor placed in store — 
A nation snatched from thralldom's 

night, 
Eesplendent in full Freedom's light 
That still with holier rays shall shine 



THE NINETY-FIRST. 25 

Eeflected from a source divine. 
God's purposes shall be fulfilled 
In spite of all that man has willed. 

The Brook of Cedars softly creeps 
By pebbly banks and rocky steeps, 
While here and there along its way 
Rest side by side the blue and gray ; 
And peaceful nature has effaced 
The crimson track that war had traced, 
Thrice spanned the wood with leafy 

roof, 
Thrice spread abroad her verdant woof. 
Those mounds, a fathom length, where 

fell 
Tl^.e comrade's tear in sad farewell, 
The grass}' sward has overspread. 
In seeming kindness for the dead. 
And if the dead might hover near. 
Our thoughts to read or words to hear, 
Within our inmost souls they'd find 
Their name and worth}' fame enshrined. 



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